Its Randomly Delicious!
by OnlyANorthernSong
Summary: Response to 100 themes by Windscryer on Psychfic
1. Introduction

Shawn walked into his house, then screamed at the top of his lungs. A quick, muffled curse, and then his father was rushing down the stairs. The sound of glass breaking, a 'whoops', and then Shawn's mother ran into the front hallway, too.

"Goose, are you alright?" She asked, worry fading in her voice as she looked her son over curiously. Shawn nodded, grinning.

"Then why the hell did you scream bloody murder?" Henry demanded.

"I want you to meet someone!" Shawn said excitedly.

"Oh?" Maddie asked, smiling broadly. "Who is it?"

"A kid from Kindergarten!" Shawn said. He ran out the door, leaving Maddie leaning over where her son used to be, as Henry simply stared at the door.

"Is he coming back?"

"..." His question was answered after a few moments, when the youngest Spencer returned, arm wrapped around the shoulder of a nervous looking young boy.

"This is Gus."

"Burton Guster," The boy said meekly, looking up at the intimidating Henry Spencer, before relaxing as he saw Maddie, who smiled comfortingly.

"Nice to meet you, Burton."

"Gus." Shawn corrected. Maddie, smirking, nodded.

"Mm-hm. So, you two met today?"

"We met last week, Ma-am." Burton said, fumbling with the bottom of his shirt.

"This is my mom," Shawn said unnecessarily. He turned next to Henry. "And this is my dad." Gus looked up at the towering man, eyes widening. Henry looked him over, then asked,

"Do you prefer Gus, Guster, Burt, or Burton?" The young boy looked at Shawn, as if for guidance. He merely grinned, and nodded encouragingly.

"Gus, sir." Henry nodded, as if somehow satisfied.

"Well. Nice to meet you, Gus."

"Stay for dinner?" Maddie offered.

"Er-"

"We'll have dessert!" Shawn tempted. "Pineapple cake!"

"We don't have pineapples," Maddie said.

"We'll find some." Shawn assured her, before dragging Gus out the front door again. Maddie turned to Henry with a smirk on her lips.

"Well. Shawn changed his name."

"I give them a week."


	2. Love

"I'm in love!" Gus said with a wistful smile, as he happily sat down beside his best friend.

"With who?" Shawn asked, concerning himself more with his paddle-ball then with his love-sick amigo. "That one girl from that one place?" Gus nodded dreamily.

"Yep, she's the one."

"Hard to forget," Shawn muttered, as the ball jumped up, then down, then up, then down. It missed the paddle. A breathed curse. Then up, then down, then up, then down. "Are you gonna ask her out?"

"Me? Her? No way! She'd laugh in my face!" Gus replied, shocked at the very proposal.

"Then I'll ask her out. I'm bored with this anyway." Gus watched in horror as his friend trounced off to ask her out. He was even more surprised when Shawn actually went to the right girl. He paled as he saw her giggle, and Shawn smile. His #1 smile. His cute, boyish smile that make women swoon. Whatever that means. The smile that made the girls last year in third grade _melt_. Well. Not really. But close.

"Shawn!" Gus shouted, running across the cafeteria.

"-and we have some soda at my place, and I was thinking you could come over and watch the Dukes of Hazzard."

"I love the Dukes of Hazzard." She said, blushing madly.

"So, is that a yes?" _That _smile again. Gus wanted to kill that smile. He stopped in front of the table just as she said,

"Sure!" And that's when Gus punched Shawn in the face. "Shawn!" She shrieked.

"Gus!" Shawn complained, from the ground, with a bloody noise. "What the heck, dude?"

Later, in the principal's office, when asked why model A-Student Burton Guster punched him in the face, all Shawn could say was,

"He was in love."


	3. Light

Shawn and Gus sat in the tree house, each with their own flashlight, buried in their respective comic books- Gus with the Green Beetle, Shawn with Spider-Man.

"Dude, why doesn't Peter just tell MJ?" Shawn complained, as Peter lied to MJ about where he had been. Gus shrugged. "She could become, like, Spider-girl, or something. That'd be so rad!" Gus rolled his eyes, then said, matter-of-factly,

"MJ doesn't have superpowers, Shawn."

"How would you know?" Shawn replied, sticking out his lower lip. "You're reading the Green Beetle." He shuddered. Gus glowered.

"The Green Beetle is awesome, Shawn!"

"If by awesome, you mean as lame as a hollow pineapple, then you're totally right." Gus rolled his eyes.

"Just get back to reading." He muttered. Shawn grinned, and shined his flashlight back onto his comic book. Suddenly, he looked up.

"Dude, did you hear that?" He asked. Gus glared at him.

"You're not gonna scare me, Shawn."

"No, I'm being serious!"

"You're never serious."

"I think my dads coming!" That got Gus' attention. He stashed his comic book under his sleeping bag, as Shawn did the same, then they both looked anxiously at the door that the ladder led to. The seconds ticked by...

"You lied to me."

"Did not."

"Did so."

"Did not."

"Did so." Gus replied indignantly, retrieving his comic.

"Did not." Gus and Shawn both looked up sharply at the new voice. Henry smirked wickedly at them as he snatched the Green Beetle comic right out from Gus' hands.

"How'd you-" Shawn began.

"I could see the lights from the house," Henry replied briskly, as he looked for (and found) Shawn's book as well, and tucked it under his arm along with the other contraband. He smiled at them."Have fun with your sleepover!"


	4. Dark

The motorcycle tore down the road through the dark, and Shawn's hair flew back in the breeze.

"Okay." He muttered to himself. "I mean, I really should stop by. Just to say hi. Quick 'hey-how-ya-doin', and I'll be out." The motorcycle continued down, closer and closer.

"I mean, I've been here a while. I bet he doesn't even know I'm back." He pushed a nervous hand through his hair, wondering why on Earth he should be nervous. He was going to visit his dad. Why should he be scared, or nervous, or whatever the heck it was he was? He wondered vaguely whether Henry would yell about him not having a helmet. Well, too late for that. There was no way he was gonna be stopping by at Wal-mart. He was almost there anyway. And it was just gonna be a quick hey-how-ya-doin'. It didn't constitute any real talking.

But, then, why was he so nervous?

"Okay, it's been a little bit since I've seen him. But Gus is right. I should totally stop by." Okay, it was a little longer than 'a bit', but what did 'a bit' really mean, anyway? It was almost like he was flying through the night, his hands with ease pulling or easing up on the gas. He didn't even have to think about it. Which was good, seeing as how he couldn't think at the moment. Sure, the last time he had seen good ole pop, the guy had been cranky as hell, and had said he never wanted to see Shawn again, but that was just a spur-of-the-moment outburst, right?

I mean, the guy was annoying, a hard-ass, and strict, but there was no way he was just never going to talk to his son, right?

Right?

The motorcycle turned the final corner, and Shawn loosened his grip on the handles, easing the gas. The motorcycle slowed, and he fought to keep his jaw from slacking.

The windows were dark.

A note at the door said he wasn't there. Wasn't gonna be there.

The windows were dark for good reason. There was no one there. Wasn't going to be for a while.

"Where the hell are you?"

And Shawn Spencer made it his mission not to care.

But, still, all he could think of as his tightened his hands, as the engine revved, and the motorcycle sped away....

The windows had been dark. And he hadn't been warned.


	5. Innocence

Henry looked down at his son. His always innocent son.

_"Why do you always accuse him?" Maddie always demanded._

_"Because he's always guilty!" Henry always replied. _

"Shawn."

"Yea, Dad?"

"Did you do this?"

"No, Dad."

"Are you sure?"

"Yea."

_"That's a horrible thing to say!"_

_"It's not my fault you raised a hell-raiser!"_

"Are you positive? I might just have some evidence up my sleeve..."

"I'm sure, Dad. I'm as innocent as a chimpunk." Henry didn't know what to say to that. Was it a trick answer? Was he being a smart-ass? Were Chipmunks notoriously guilty? It didn't seem likely...

_"You can't always blame him for everything, Henry."_

_"I don't. I just blame him for everything he's guilty of." _

"Okay then, Shawn. This is your last chance. Did. You. Do. It."

"Nope."

"Shawn...if you're lying..."

"I'm not!"

_"What if one day you found out that all the things you blamed him for without evidence weren't his fault?"_

_"First, I'd put on a jacket, a scarf, and some mittens, and then I'd fly my pig around hell."_

He looked up at him with his wide, hazel eyes that screamed 'Cute. Adorable. _Innocent_.'

"Shawn."

"Yea, Dad?"

"Go to your room."

_"He can't always be guilty, Henry."_

_"He can't always be innocent, either." _


	6. Heaven

Carlton smiled proudly. This was great. Spencer had finally been found out for the fraud he was. This was the first day without the 'psychic's' meddling. Already, he hadn't been called a dog's name, hadn't been whistled to, and, perhaps best of all, hadn't found a note reading,

**You will go to the bathroom at 1:45 unless you don't drink the coffee- Phsychic (trust me) **

He filed some papers, drank some coffee, went to the bathroom at 1:46, and managed to ignore the dull look in O'Hara's eyes, for the most part. It was heaven! No sudden spasms when real police work should be conducted, no 'The Spirits! The Spirits!', no one bursting in on private meetings with the chief.

Complete and utter heaven.

Carlton took a long sip from his coffee, reading over a case file for a kidnapping that had gone sour. The murderer was still in Santa Barbara, for now. But, for some reason, the case was going slower then usual, despite the fact that it should have been going faster, since Spencer was gone. No more distractions. No more paper balls flung at him, followed by a loud and obnoxious 'Scoooore!'

It was heaven.

Wasn't it? Spencer wasn't a psychic. He was a...what had he called it? It started with a D, he thought vaguely. But- he had a photographic memory. Carlton looked at the clouds in his coffee. Was it possible they had missed something? Something Shaw- Spencer would have caught? He shrugged it off.

Who cared if the case was going a tiny bit slower. It had to do with the case, not with the fact there was one less investigator working it. Besides.

It was heaven not having Spencer around.

Right?


	7. Seeking Solace

"Henry." Her voice was quiet.

"Are you leaving then?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Have you said goodbye to Shawn?"

"Yes."

"Does he understand?"

"...No..."

"Do you think he will."

"Yes."

"Do you want me to explain it to him?"

"Depends on how you explain it."

"Hey, Shawn- your mother decided to abandon you. Fun, huh?"

"Don't make thi-"

"Okay, okay. How about this? Hey, sport. You're not gonna see your Mom for a while. What's a while? Eh, I don't know. She'll come when she wants to. That's what good mothers do."

"No. Henry. Just tell him I'm...seeking solace."

"From your only son."

"No. From my husband. Never from my son."

"Go find your solice, Maddie. I have my son."

"I'll be back..."

"Only when you want to be. Goodbye, Maddie. I hope you find your solice." The door slammed in her face, and she felt truly alone.

And she hated it.


	8. Breaking Away

When I was born, my dad got me a bib that said, Cop In Training. When I was five, I got a toy police car. When I was six, I spent every afternoon at the station. Same with seven...eight...nine...most of ten. When I was eleven, he took me and Gus to a big Cop show thing. When I was twelve he came to my school. And talked about being a cop.

When I was born, I just wanted to sleep. When I was five, I wanted to fly. When I was six to nine, I wanted to be a cop. When I was ten, I wanted to be a fireman. When I was eleven, I wanted to be a rock star. When I was twelve, I wanted to be an astronaut. When I was sixteen...I wanted to be anything but him.

His name is Henry Spencer. He's a retired Police Officer.

My name is Shawn Spencer. I'm **not **a Police Officer.

I never flew. I never became a cop. I never became a fireman. I never became a rock star (Except this one time, when me and Gus went on American Duos). I never became an astronaut (unless you count the ride at Disney) But I am not him. For the most part.

At my birthday last year, the chief of the station where I sometimes work came up to me, and said I acted nothing like my Dad.

I was pleased.

But then she said I reminded her of him somehow.

And after this-or-that many years, I'm starting to wonder if that's such a bad thing. I'm not going to be able to fly like Superman, I'm never going to be a cop, I doubt I'll be a fireman, I might be a rock star (I've got the amazing looks and hair) and, unless you count the ride at Disney, I'm not going to be an astronaut.

But maybe I'll be a little more like him.

Just not..._exactly _like him.

When I have a kid, I'll let them choose what they want to be. I'll get them a bib that says Daddy Loves Me. When they turn five, I'll give them candy, a hug, and a trip to the park. When they're six-to-ten, I'll let them go to their friend's houses after school, or their friends will come home with them. When they're eleven, I'll see if they want to come with me to work. They can if they want to. When they're twelve, I'm going to go to their school and embarrass the crap out of them.

But I'll let them choose what they want to be.

And maybe they'll be a little like me.


End file.
